


Possibilities

by MagnanimousTwit



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Babies, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Modelling, Oral Sex, Sex, Swearing, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:39:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnanimousTwit/pseuds/MagnanimousTwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always, Benedict wanted to be a parent. He had a soft spot for cooing babies. As well as panicking young women with crying babies. One day on the tube he meets just that sort of person, a desperate young woman who is looking after someone else's kid for a while and has not a clue of what to do with herself - she didn't even have a crib, for God's sake.</p><p>Sympathetic, Benedict offers his help. It was just that, one day of help, a few hours at most. At first. But then there's just something about this woman when he spends a bit more time with her. As she calms, with the baby gone, she's a completely different person, but absolutely fantastic. A big personality and a producer's daughter. </p><p>A mostly funny and ridiculous story of Benedict Cumberbatch and OC Jolene Porter, who meet under these entertaining conditions and choose to carry on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out my tumblr: http://magnanimoustwit.tumblr.com/
> 
> I take one-shot requests and really, really appreciate prompts. If you use tumblr you're better off following me there.

Chapter 1

There was a ceaseless sound of a baby whimpering that made late morning, slow train rides adorable. Benedict loved the sound of a baby when it cooed, squeaked, giggled, and whimpered. Any sounds pre-cry. Especially when he wasn’t tired or stressed, making him very glad that it was a good enough day for him to enjoy the sound.

It had been ten minutes since he stepped into the tube car, almost halfway home. Benedict of course had a car but he quite liked the uncrowded tube. When he got on he saw the woman and the baby in a carrier next to her, an oversized diaper bag on the other side. He didn’t see the baby for five minutes, and then it was only a swinging arm as it started to make sounds.

In his seat opposite then, Benedict tried not to stare or grin or seem obsessed. It was just too adorable. He could have been like normal people and ask the gender, age, so on. But Benedict was, forevermore, a bit worried over being recognized, wearing sunglasses and a scarf in that very moment.

Then the whimpering turned into a cry. Not loud, yet, but if the baby wasn’t comforted it might become insistent. Benedict glanced over as the woman turned to the baby. She was very young, he realized, and panicked, hair in an easy ponytail and bags under her eyes.

“No, baby, don’t cry.” She whispered, but it was a bit of a stage whisper, sound carrying like a full voice. Benedict was glad for sunglasses so he didn’t seem like he was staring. “I don’t know what you want!”

The crying went on as the woman unbuckled the car seat. Struggling to, at least, and when she finally got it undone it took force and she hit her hand on the edge. If it hurt she was biting a bullet to hide it and made the awkward pose to take the baby out.

They were so small. Smaller than any kid Benedict had ever seen in his life. In pink the baby looked flooded in clothes meant for a new born, kicking and needing their head of red fluffy hair to be supported. The woman seemed to fully freak out as she laid the baby on her tense lap, holding its head.

“Oh my God, I’ve seen rats bigger than you.” She even stated, rocking herself and the child.

The crying didn’t stop and his sympathies caught up with Benedict. He fidgeted, and then got up to cross the isle. Not that he went noticed as he swept into the seat on the other side of the diaper bag.

“Maybe you should feed her?” Benedict gently cut in. The baby looked enough like a girl in that colour that he assumed.

The woman looked at him, then down to the bag. “Right! Um…” She rifled through it with one hand.

The baby squirmed and shrieked with half the support. Benedict chuckled, not that he meant to. “Would you like me to hold her?”

The mother looked horrified. “No. God, no.” She shook her head. “Oh, God, what was I doing?” She seemed to fully forget.

“Excuse me.” Benedict hummed and reached into her bag, grabbing the visible bottle of milk.

“Thank you.” She took it, but trying to reposition the baby she couldn’t get her to drink. Instead milk just squirted all over the woman’s jeans.

This was so clearly a new mother, and not someone who’d ever fed a baby before. “Alright, love, it’s going to be fine.” Benedict comforted, trying not to offend someone in an easily emotional state. “May I?”

She seemed to give up as she nodded. Benedict reached over, sliding one hand under the head where the mother had her hand, scooping the other under the baby’s tiny body. He felt this glee even though the child was screaming while he held it to his chest, head in the bend of his arm. Gently Benedict reached back without looking to take the bottle, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head so he could see the baby better.

It took a bit of rocking and insistence, but the little girl took the nipple of the bottle in her mouth, attempting to whimper as she drank. “You’re a life saver.” The woman to his right commented, groaning.

Benedict gave a small, sedated laugh, watching the sweet wet face of the baby. “And you’re very new. How old is she?” He asked.

There was a gasp and he looked over at the woman. Was it something with the baby, or did she recognize him, or something else? Did he look horrifying in his guise?

“I am new- I mean, like an hour.” Benedict was a bit confused. There was no way that this baby was an hour old, or they’d be in the hospital. “She’s not mine. I’m taking care of her.”

“Oh.” He drew out the word. “That makes more sense.” And the baby looked nothing like the woman. Red hair contrasted with charcoal black and while they baby had blue yes, the woman’s were hazel.

She gave a small cringe. “And she’s six days old.” She answered his question.

Benedict shifted to keep a stronger hold on the kid. This was officially the youngest and smallest child he’d ever held. “Where are her parents? I mean absolutely no offense, but that’s too young to leave a baby with a babysitter.”

“On a plane to Cancun.” The woman answered.

He sat up and felt this creeping annoyance – this poor kid, and this poor woman. “Oh, God, that’s…”

“Yeah.” She agreed with his unspoken words, sounding even more frustrated. “Thank you for getting her to take the bottle, but I think I can take her back.”

Considering this child was in no way his responsibility, he had to shift her over to the woman’s arms. She mocked his pose and tried not to move the bottle from the baby’s mouth as she took that, as well.

Benedict wet his mouth and didn’t leave the seat. “Can I ask why you’re babysitting?” He wouldn’t overstep his boundaries if she said no. He’d go back to his seat and ignore her as he should.

The woman glanced at him, then stared down at the baby. “I’m indebted to the father, so to speak, so when he and his whore wife went to Cancun for two weeks.”

 _Two weeks_? Benedict was disbelieving. “Wha–”

“You really don’t want to know.” She cut him off. “I’m angry, and I rant. Nobody need listen to that.”

“Somebody left you their six day old baby to take care of for two weeks when you’re very inexperienced. I might rant.” Benedict felt this unneeded stress over a stranger. Which reminded him, “What’s your name?”

She managed to smile just a little. “Jolene.” Then she nodded down at the baby. “And this little thing got the most shameful name I have ever heard. Deva.” Jolene shifted and then panicked when the bottle slid from the baby’s mouth, putting it back. “What’s your name?”

He stopped thinking for a moment, clearly not recognized. “Ben.”

“Well, Ben, I’m really sorry you had to bother with me.” She didn’t look up, stressing over the child. “And thank you. I didn’t even know how to feed a baby.”

He really didn’t want to be depressing, but he started to ask, “Do you know how to burp a baby? Or change a diaper, put them to sleep, swaddle them, prepare formula, child proof your flat… Do you have a crib?”

She fell absolutely silent. Benedict felt bad. “Okay, do you have friends with kids?” He asked in a gentler tone. “Or can you call your parents?”

“No.” Jolene answered. “But I have money. I’ll just buy everything.”

“I really, truly don’t mean to be creepy, but do you want help?” Benedict offered. So far he didn’t think he’d mind, and he had the time – she just looked so broken down.

She was shaking her head. “No. Um, I’ll get a baby sitter or something until I learn. And buy a crib.”

“Unless you hire them for twenty-four hours, you’re going to need to learn today. I’ve got time, and I love kids.”

Jolene looked over at him. “I do know how to change a diaper.” She told him. “And I really, really don’t want to be a bother. I’ve just never been in the same room with anyone under the age of ten since I was ten.” She turned back to said baby. “I really could find somebody. Or look things up on the internet.”

“No, I’m really glad to help. If it’s alright, I mean, because I would be in your flat – it’s totally up to you.”

She seemed hesitant. “I don’t mind. I guess I should be proud of my clean flat while I can.” She gave a small laugh. “Really, really, I appreciate this. As long as the- this- Deva behaves, it’ll be easy. I’m a quick learner.”

“Does she at least have a nice middle name?” Benedict hoped there was something for this child to fall back on other than that.

Jolene looked clueless. “Hold on.”

She sort of fumbled, but managed to get the baby into the carrier again without losing hold on the bottle. Keeping it in Deva’s mouth Jolene turned back to the diaper bag and went through a side pocket. She had the birth certificate, six days old and already folded though that was likely not her fault. Reading it, her head fell.

“Deva Sunset Porter.” Jolene read off.

Benedict chuckled as she put the certificate away. “So, Sunny or DP?” She spoke to the child, as if the little girl could answer.

“DP.” Benedict thought out loud. It just seemed simpler than making the middle name the nick name, and having to even shorten that.

“DP it is.” Jolene agreed. An announcement came over the train that they were about to pull into a station. She looked at him quickly. “This is mine – I hope it’s not terribly far for you. I can give you cab fare to get home since you’ve offered to do so much for me.”

He wasn’t at all worried. “Actually, it’s my stop as well.” Not even a fib. He was an eight minute cab ride from the tube.

She begrudgingly took the bottle from the baby, and both of them waited, but there was no crying. Getting ready to leave Benedict dropped his sunglasses and now hoped to God he wasn’t seen, lest people believe he had a baby, especially with this being the same part of London he lived in. He offered to carry DP, as she was dubbed, despite this, but Jolene was insistent on carrying everything.

When they stepped off the train he stole the diaper bag either way because she was sort of guarding the carrier like she had no clue what she was doing, which was true. Above the underground as they came out on the street, she seemed to falter a moment.

“I usually walk, it’s not even five minutes. Do you think we could fit all of this into a cab?”

“We’ll walk.” Benedict chuckled and urged her on with a hand on her back. Jolene made a quick left and walked just from his reach, so he dropped his hand.

It may not have crossed his mind before, but now Benedict was walking home with a woman and a baby – if anyone saw them together, they think that this was a family. But would it be a nice if it wasn’t just a rumour and this wasn’t just a stranger. He really saw her when it crossed his mind the potential scandal would think them married. Not stressed, panicked, but potentially very beautiful. She was tall and lithe save for her hips, nicely large for the rest of her shape, with a normal chest, her dark hair and pale skin making her hazel eyes a bit more noticeable.

“So how many kids do you have?” Jolene asked him, glancing back as she walked.

There was this involuntary stab of pain. “Two god kids, actually. I don’t have kids.” Benedict confessed. “I want kids, terribly so.”

She gave a hesitant look. “I did, but- not like this.”

DP had just started to make noise when they got to a split two story home, going up the right walk. There was a mediocre garden of weeds, a chipped blue door, and an iron fence separating the left and right of the duplex. Jolene hooked an arm in the carrier handle to bear the weight and took her keys from her front pocket.

Inside could not be judged by the outside. While crap from the sidewalk, going in it was a wall of small mirrors in a decorative design, stairs to the right. The walls were painted a gentle sand colour. In the living room, after passing a chrome and blue kitchen, the furniture was old style and high back, floor hardwood but with a royal red area rug. No coffee table, but small end tables by each seat instead. It was also very clean, smelling a bit like cinnamon.

Benedict made a full spin as she went to the small dining table tucked against one wall and put the carrier down. “This is a really nice place.” He complimented. It was smaller than his, even knowing she had the floor above, but better decorated.

“Thanks.” Jolene deadpanned a bit, staring down at DP.

Benedict dropped the diaper bag and went over to her. “So you have to order a crib.” He said. “And maybe a few other things. Considering in two weeks she’s still immobile, you don’t have to really baby proof anything.”

The duty of baby watch as DP made small noises went to Benedict. Not that he minded at all, taking her from the carrier and holding her – a baby was a baby, and he was gleeful. Jolene was on her computer, at the site of a baby store that delivered. As she shopped, asking him what little things to get, Benedict was pacing the living room and quick to answer.

“How did you end up being the baby sitter?” He asked more firmly, hoping for an answer better than owing someone. This was the mother of all favours.

Jolene glanced over her shoulder at him before going over a list of potential cribs. “Dad called and said, ‘hey, can you watch Deva for two weeks while I go on vacation’, and I thought it was a pet.” She answered. “I didn’t know he was married, or that she was pregnant, or that any baby was born until this morning.”

The father was just irresponsible, Benedict thought. “So he called you up out of the blue for this?” It was a lot to ask of someone you didn’t really talk to.

“No, we talk every week.”

“That’s worse.”

 

Ben was a saving grace. He was absolutely wonderful to Jolene, which few people ever seemed to be. Going through the diaper bag he taught her how to make formula, throw a burping towel over her shoulder and burp DP, how to swaddle her in a blanket, and just everything that she could do with what they had. When the baby stuff was delivered he really took charge – suddenly she had this six foot, bulky man sitting on the floor of her bedroom, setting up a crib.

She was told that he could do it, she wasn’t allowed. He made her sit on she bed, sleeping baby in her lap, so that she would be out of the way as he dumped out all of the pieces. It made a noise to startle DP awake, but the baby just stared up in silence. Thankfully, after a near two hours straight of crying.

“You’re just amazing.” Jolene commented as he stretched over the floor to grab a piece that got away from him a bit. It had been bothering her how familiar he was, so she’d been staring, not that he ever looked up with his mind set on building the crib.

He did fluster a bit when she said that. “Oh, no, thank you, but I’m just pathetic, really.” Ben told her. “I sincerely love it. It’s weird.”

She didn’t know how he could love it when he destroyed what he was building a few seconds later. “Well, your wife will be very jealous that you’re spending all this time here.” Jolene teased.

“You thought I was married?” He looked up at her with a furrowed brow and odd expression. Jolene sat a little straighter, embarrassed. “Um, no, I’m not…” Ben went back to slotting together two pieces. “I’m single.”

Jolene recognized that slight despair. “Bad break up?” She guessed. “Not that you have to tell me.”

“It was.” He just answered. “A lot of fighting. We were together for more than nine years, though some of that time was spent on a break.” He added to it. “So more like eight. You?”

It was a very easy guess to her own past after her questions. “Six years, but we were friends for about five before we got together - since we were children.” Jolene confessed because he had. “He… was different in the end. There wasn’t fighting, I just left.”

“Well, we’re both screwed up.” Ben chuckled and got further with the crib. “Can’t say you’re not after big breakups like those.”

“Well then it’s nice to be screwed up with you.”

“Same.” He laughed a bit heavier and kept working.

In a bit DP started to shriek. Jolene didn’t want to put Ben off, and though she had no idea about what to do with her she left the room and went downstairs. It took a lot of attempts to feed DP, a diaper change, and even more hugging to get her to quiet, but it didn’t stop. It just turned into a weak cry, deep breath, weak cry, deep breath.

She had no idea how long had passed but it must have been quite a while and felt like an hour, because down came Ben. “Crib’s done.” He told her.

“Thank you.” She said quickly. “Oh, God, really, thank you. If you want anything, ever, I swear I’ll do everything to pay you back.” Jolene kept rocking DP, waiting for the noise to stop.

“No, that’s really okay.” Ben was smiling bright, rubbing a hand over the scruff of his chin. “I assume this is you trying to kick me out, then? Don’t worry, I don’t need anything in return.”

Only it didn’t feel right not doing something for him. “No, I mean it! Anything, anytime. Even if it’s forever from now, I swear.” He fell silent and as they stared at each other, DP in the middle of a deep breath, Jolene realized what she’d said. “That sounded insane.” She commented. “But I do owe you.”

“I’ll think on it, then.” Ben told her. “Feed her, she should stop.”

As Jolene panicked to find the bottle again and go warm it, Ben let himself out with a call of his farewell. It would be too much to try and catch him to offer cab fare again, but she saw him out the kitchen window and when he turned she gave a wave. If it weren’t for him, she had to admit there was a possibility that she’d do something terribly wrong taking care of this baby. Feeding DP again, she did stop crying, at least long enough to eat and wet herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my tumblr: http://magnanimoustwit.tumblr.com/
> 
> I take one-shot requests and really, really appreciate prompts. If you use tumblr you're better off following me there.

 

Chapter 2

Benedict was with Matt, walking towards his home, and he had this absent thought about Jolene. It had been just more than a week since he had those four hours with her, not much time at all, but if anything could make an impression it was that. He began to wonder how she was, if DP was torturous, if the father decided to come back from Cancun.

Knowing that they were close enough that the one block off course couldn’t hurt, Benedict turned to Matt. “Hey, is it alright if we drop in on a friend of mine?” He asked.

“Of course.” Matt agreed, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. They started walking towards her flat. “Who lives around here? I thought there was just you out here.”

It was true the of his group of friends, nobody really knew anyone who lived within such a short distance of him. “Not anyone you know.” Benedict mentioned. “I don’t think she knows I’m an actor, either. She’s very out of it.”

“Like elderly out of it?” Matt wondered.

“No, you’ll see.” He told him.

Matt didn’t focus on it, talking about work and how he was going to have drinks that weekend with a cast mate. They were actually very both into it, Benedict telling him to give his hellos to Karen and Arthur. Then they talked about Alex Kingston for a moment. Matt would always have a crush on Alex, and made a joke that she always told him to say hi to Benedict. That Benedict was stealing his chances.

When they got to the building Benedict hopped up the two steps to the small square porch. He gave a knock and he instantly knew that somebody had to be home by the baby crying. “Aw, baby.” Matt cooed quietly as they waited.

The door was thrown open. Jolene had a naked DP held to her shoulder, spit up down the front of her Enjoy Coca-Cola shirt, and as DP had a fit, she had fistfuls of Jolene’s dark hair. “Oh. Hi.” She blurted.

“Aw, naked baby.” Matt chuckled.

“Jolene, this is Matt. Matt, Jolene and DP.” Ben introduced.

She gave him a nod, but then was back to looking at Ben. “Uh, you can come in.” Jolene shifted to let them by.

Stepping up first, Matt was enthralled by the extremely tiny baby. “Oh, you mind?” He asked Jolene. She let him, and Matt walked in saying, “Let’s find something for your little naked tushy to wear.”

Benedict followed but stopped in the hall as Jolene closed the doors. A pile of dirty shirts now sat at the bottom of the stairs and there were toys, bottles, and a box of diapers lying around. He turned to the woman who had this life thrusted upon her with remorse.

“Are you alright?” He asked her. “I thought I’d check on you but we can definitely stay and help a bit. Matt seems taken with DP.”

She was shaking her hands, crossing her arms and then cringing as she dropped them again, spit up still on her shirt. “No – so I can’t get a babysitter because DP’s too young, but I am getting a maid, so please ignore the mess.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I’m just stressing and I quit my job but I don’t remember quitting my job- sorry, I rant.”

They both turned to the living room as the crying stopped. Jolene went ahead and there was Matt with a freshly diapered kid, DP holding his fingers as he poked at her stuck out belly. “You are the cutest little baby I have ever seen! Oh, how old is she?”

“Uh,” Jolene ticked off a few fingers in the air. “Fifteen days.”

Matt looked up from the baby on the changing table. “You don’t look like you had a baby two weeks ago.” He spoke simply.

Maybe Ben should have explained before they got there. Jolene looked a bit miffed. “She’s not mine.”

“Ah, apologies.” Matt spoke in this charismatic way he had, where it was just hard to stay angry with him. DP started to make noise again and the younger man began to play with her again. “No worries, darling, the Doctor is here.”

Benedict chuckled and heard from his left, “You’re a doctor?”

Both of them looked at her quickly. “No.” Matt was laughing. “I’m- I play the Doctor. Doctor Who. Matt Smith.”

It was visible on her face the moment things clicked into place. The scrunch of confusion disappeared and she let out a gasp. “Oh my God!” Her hands steepled together as she covered her mouth. Jolene even turned to him. “Oh my God, and you’re Sherlock! I thought I recognized you- I’m so sorry. I don’t recognize faces when stressed.”

“I have a feeling neither of us would mind.” Matt commented and swooped DP up in his arms. Benedict was momentarily jealous. “Oh ho ho, I love a good baby.” He cooed as DP made absolutely no sound.

“Well I mind. I’m very sorry. I mean if anyone I should definitely have at least- well, I guess not anymore.” She ranted, not making a lick of sense. “Again, sorry.”

Looking at his friend, Benedict rubbed his neck. “Matt, I think I might stick around here.”

Matt looked at him. “Yeah, it’s cool. But what the hell kind of name is DP?”

Benedict took the baby as Jolene made a noise. “Long story short, her name is Deva Porter.”

“How is that a long story?” He laughed.

“Fifty-five year old Bastard and twenty-seven year old Bimbo had a secret baby and named it Deva Sunset Porter.” Jolene stated. “And, again, that’s shortening it.”

Not hearing the ages before, Benedict may have pulled a face. “Oh, geez, poor thing.” Matt cringed and stepped up to Jolene, taking her hand in both of his to shake it. “Very good to meet you. And Ben, you owe me dinner sometime next week, huh?”

“It’s a plan.” Benedict agreed while bouncing the baby a bit. Matt left with a skip and the door closed to fill the home with silence after. “I’m sorry if you don’t want company.” He said to Jolene.

“All my friends don’t want to see me and I’ve had nobody but a baby in my flat for a week.” She spoke slowly, rubbing her eyes. “Stay. I’ll even order food. Do you like take-out? Or are you one of those posh actors, because I’ve had enough of posh people.”

Benedict was chuckled though he didn’t mean to. “Considering Matt and I were going to have Chinese, I’d say take-out is fantastic.” He told her. “I’m absolutely willing to even watch her if you want to take a nap? I’ve got no reason to be home.”

“You’re a God, but I don’t need to.” Jolene began to pat herself down. Benedict lifted a brow. “Phone. I have no idea where my phone is.”

There wasn’t better timing than her rifling around the changing station and the phone beginning to ring on the complete other side of the room. Either quicker or just more aware, Benedict got there first. “Stephen?” He read off the caller ID.

“Answer it because my phone doesn’t ring very long!” She rushed out in a panic.

He flicked open the phone and pushed it to his ear. “Jolene’s phone?” He offered, a very horrible secretary as he held the baby in one curved arm.

She gave a small laugh, and there was a deep voice on the other side of the line. “Hello, is she in? It’s Stephen and I’m a little worried about her. She hasn’t been on twitter in ages.” The man told Benedict.

“Uh, yeah, she’s in.” Benedict felt horribly unprofessional after listening to that man talk. He even thought that he recognized the voice, and if so he even knew the man. “Please hold on a moment.” Holding the phone away, Benedict furrowed his brow at Jolene. “I think Stephen Fry is calling to ask about your twitter?”

She took the phone without confirming or denying, let alone explaining. “Hey, yes, I’m sorry I’m a shut in lately.” Jolene spoke into the phone, pausing while Benedict better supported DP. “That was Ben… Not a secretary. Um, Benedict Cumberbatch?”

As she glanced up, not sure of his name, he nodded. Though why would she need to mention him. “Anyway, I’ve got to go… I’m fine, I’m just baby-sitting. I’ll call you when I can to tell you the full story.” As the man said something, she gave a laugh. “Yep, or bitch about it on telly. Alright, great, bye.”

She hung up and began to dial another number. “That was Stephen Fry, please stop staring like I’ve grown two heads.” Jolene smiled at him and held the phone to her ear. “I learned philosophy from that man on accident once because we got talking in a coffee shop. He’s a friend.”

Then whoever she was calling must have picked up because she was ordering food. Jolene asked him what he liked that was Italian, and he asked for ravioli. When she hung up Benedict realized he was bouncing a sleeping baby and stilled.

“What chance do we have of getting her upstairs without her waking?” He asked quietly.

Jolene got very close to peak at the face buried against Benedict. “Um, it’s been fifty/fifty.” She whispered. “She cute when she’s not screaming.”

He chuckled and stepped towards the hall. “I’ll be right back, hopefully.”

He put DP down in her crib upstairs and when he came back, Jolene was tidying. “So, Stephen Fry?” He wondered, following her suit as she picked up, grabbing what burp clothes and animals he found.

“I’m serious. We met in a coffee shop and spent two hours talking about the death penalty in the States. Philosophy behind it, mostly.” She took everything from him and got rid of it, wherever it needed to go. “I’m keeping up religiously with his documentary and in turn he harasses me about my twitter and whoever I’ve met this week.” Jolene looked at him. “Do you want tea?”

“No thank you.” Benedict passed. “So you meet a lot of famous people?” He asked. That could be why instead of freaking out that she had two actors in her home, she apologized for not knowing them, saying ‘if anyone’ she should have.

Jolene motioned for him to sit on her couch and followed suit. “Well, not every week, and sometimes. My father works in production.” She told him. “Terrance Porter?”

Benedict actually knew the name very well. Sitcom genius – he used to write. And now movies were more his speed. He also realized more than he should. The man was older, nearing sixty, and that was the same last name as baby DP. But he was Jolene’s father.

“DP is you sister?” Jolene nodded. “But only half.” Again, confirmation came. “And your father married someone who was twenty-seven. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Every single time he thought something was horrible for her, it got worse. “Oh, God, sorry.” Benedict babbled. “I mean, I’ve just lost a great deal of respect for your father, and that’s very not good for you.”

“We can change the subject.” She told him. “And by can I mean please do, now.”

Going over his endless curiosities, Benedict fell back on something not to do with DP or her father. “Favourite colour.”

Jolene let out a laugh, seeming to relax a bit more. “Really? Well, then, red.” She answered.

And then they talked about miniscule things like old pets and school bullies until the food came. The baby slept through their noise, good smells, and eating. In turn Benedict could see Jolene unravel and become more of a normal person, rather than someone who rambled. She didn’t look great, but would anyone under the same circumstances? As it turned out, she was actually fantastic at what she was doing and while it was hard, that was simply because she was alone, not incapable.

“You and Matt – DP must just like men because she stops crying in a snap.” She told him.

But they talked about other things as well. Television, Benedict’s inability to use twitter, and what Jolene did before she quit. “So what was it?” He had asked.

“I was a locations scout for the production company rivalling my fathers.” She gave a slow nod as she said it. “I do want to be a writer or director, but that’s where they put me, and I’d be damned if I was going to let my father give me a job.”

When they were done eating Benedict did some of the dishes with Jolene trying to stop him. Eventually she had managed to push him from the sink, both of them laughing at the scuffle, and she did a few herself. Not all, but then she threw a wash cloth over them so they were out of sight and ushered him away from the kitchen.

“Tea?” She offered him for the fourth time since he’d been there. Benedict glanced at his watch and realized that he’d shown up three hours ago – time truly went fast, this time and last time.

With a slight shake of his head he wondered if this was when he should excuse himself to go home. Not that he exactly wanted to. “Um, so you’re getting a maid?” He questioned instead, lingering.

They were sitting on her couch again and she angled to him. “Starting tomorrow. Do you think I need one?” She joked with an arm sweeping to gesture to her flat.

“Oh, absolutely.” He chuckled.

Jolene gave a tender smile. “I really, really do want to thank you. For coming to check on me.” She said. “And helping before. I truly believe whoever you marry and have kids with will be the luckiest woman.”

His heart skipped a beat and he was honestly very touched. “I’ll make sure to mark you down as a reference, then, because I’m having quite a time of finding that person.” Benedict was joking, tender as the subject was.

“I know what you’ve said before, but I do owe you, so if you actually want to, you can definitely ask me to talk you up.” He gave his docile agreement, which only got Jolene fired up. “I mean it! Even if it’s not about parenting. I’ll tell anyone you want me to that you have a massive cock or something.”

A huge laugh bubbled out of him but Benedict had to try and stop himself before he woke the baby. Again there was that one moment of clarification where you could see Jolene realize what she’d said. “That might be my cue to get some sleep.”

Now he had to go. “You should while DP’s still out.” He commented and stood, as did Jolene. “It’s been fun despite, of course. Maybe I can drop by again sometime soon?”

“Whatever you like.” Jolene let him know, walking Benedict to the door. She frowned at the laundry at the bottom of the stairs. “Hopefully when I actually have a clean shirt to wear.”

As he stood in the open door, Benedict turned to say goodbye. She returned it with a lean to kiss his cheek. In spite of baby, she smelled like vanilla and was very warm. And Jolene was funny, he thought. Part of his was ready to assume she was a television personality before she told him what she did. He was sure that this was a bit of a crush, and he felt like a schoolboy.

Going home, he never intended to but he was on the computer. And as much as he hated twitter, he had found Jolene’s. Full of jokes, quotes, events, and pictures of her with any number of celebrities. Out to dinner with Phoebe Price, being sprayed with ketchup by Simon Pegg in a giant food fight, just posing with Stephen Fry, both of them wearing glasses low on their noses. Many more than made him giggle and oddly enough with a few people he knew. _And she had two million followers_.

When he realized he felt like a stalker, he got off the computer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my tumblr: http://magnanimoustwit.tumblr.com/
> 
> I take one-shot requests and really, really appreciate prompts. If you use tumblr you're better off following me there.

Chapter 3

The biggest headline in tabloid news next week was ‘Big Time Producer Booted in the Bollocks by Daughter.’ Benedict was on the set of Sherlock, and really all he heard was people laughing about it. The crew had been swarming a magazine, and he asked Martin what it was about. His co-star was chuckling the entire time he explained that this massive producer was kicked in between his legs by his very adult daughter.

At lunch Mark got a hold of the magazine and was laughing pretty hard as he came over the Benedict and the others. It was the most immature that Benedict had ever seen him. “The face is priceless.”

The cover was exactly the title. A man, expression twisted in pain, with someone kicking him. Benedict would usually just chuckle, but instead he was laughing hard enough to lose his breath.

“That’s Terrance Porter!” Loo gasped. Benedict was hiding his face, arms folded on the table, trying to calm down. “I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

“Yeah, I worked with her once a few years ago.” Martin was chuckling. Benedict calmed some and lifted his head. “She was very, very sweet – Jolene is her name. She must have been pissed.”

He didn’t know if there was a story, but Benedict couldn’t resist saying, “I think I know why.” He was still shaking a bit with laughter. “Um, I’ve met her- helped her? I’m sure I would have – maybe not kicked him in the balls, but if he did that to me I’d be pissed.”

“So gossip! What did he do?” Loo leaned forward, closer to Benedict, and everyone was listening.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Benedict started. He really wasn’t sure if he should talk about this. “But her dad just had a baby and left it with Jolene while he went to Cancun for two weeks.” The reaction was expected – nobody knowing what to say.

Mark had the magazine again. “The reporter caught up with her but she says she’s just going to ‘bitch about it’ later. I think she’s on Graham Norton this week.”

“Oh, perfect, I’m watching.” Martin claimed. “This’ll be fucking hilarious.”

“I will definitely have to watch that.” Benedict agreed.

It turned into an event after they confirmed that Jolene really was going to be on the show. They were all going to show up at Benedict’s flat because he didn’t mind offering. It would be fun, as it always was, and funny, like Graham Norton always was. Hopefully Jolene was doing well, also.

 

By the time that Jolene had to be on the Graham Norton show, she’d gotten over everything that happened. Of course there would forever be things to get angry over, like her messed up father, losing her job, and not knowing what she’d do next, but she was also able to laugh a bit. All of it was like one long punch line. Of everything she’d done, this was one of the oddest things to happen to her.

She was also really excited. Jolene had been on interviews mostly about her father, and for once that’s not what this was. She was meant to talk about a show, but after she quit she was asked to come on anyway. It would be nerve wracking to say the least because she never met those on with her – Gerard Butler, Tom Cruise, and Olga Kurylenko. She had no fame, and these people were fantastic.

But in the green room her and Olga clung to each other for some reason. Olga was sweet and glad to meet another girl back stage. Then Gerard Butler came over whispering that there was a mariachi band and all that hiding back stage.

Then he started at Jolene. “My God, you’re tall.” He chuckled in his Scottish accent. “I mean, I’m six two. Are we the same?” His hand went from the top of her head to his.

Jolene was giggling. “It’s the heels. Oh, I knew I should have worn flats.” She was five foot ten, and usually did wear flats, but this was telly. She thought she had to be fashionable, even wearing this blazer covered in sequins. “How tall is Graham?”

“Eh.” Gerard made a hand gesture about six inches down. They both started laughing and she felt bad. She’d tower the man like a freak. “Now, you’re lovely. What do you do?”

Gerard Butler thought she was lovely – Jolene was blushing. “Um, nothing?” She felt like a twit. “I was going to talk about a show but I don’t work there anymore so we’re going to probably chat about me kicking my dad in the nuts.”

“Oh!” Gerard and Tom both flinched in horror at that. Olga gave a snort.

When it came time Jolene would be introduced first and she ended up taking off her shoes. “She’s scandalous and spirited, it’s Miss Jolene Porter!” Graham introduced and she walked out barefoot and carrying her heels.

He ran to hug her and then gave her a look. “What- why aren’t you wearing shoes?” He laughed.

“I didn’t want to make you feel short.” Jolene stood straight to make their natural two inch difference prominent. He thanked her with a laugh.

She sat at the far end of the couch as he went on introducing people, putting her shoes back on. Then everyone was out, and Tom was the reason for the mariachi band. They sang happy birthday and it was a very bright note to start the show.

Then Graham looked down the couch at her. “Now, Jolene, I really hope you like you drink.” He spoke mischievously.

She was confused until glancing at the table. In front of her was a glass of milk and she startled. “Jeez!” She felt disgusted instantly, shifting away from it. Everyone was laughing.

“It’s just milk.” Tom told her.

“Well, earlier this week Jolene tweeted that is she never sees milk again, it’ll be too soon.” Graham was bouncing with his chuckle. “I’ve no idea why, but I had to screw with you.”

It really did make her just feel ill after two weeks of being covered in formula vomit. “I’m on it.” Gerard took the small glass of milk, and sitting next to her, he started to drink it.

Of course everyone cheered him on as he chugged it down, and Jolene was clapping. Someone ran out and gave her the water she actually ordered and she thanked Gerard teasingly when he finished the milk. Then he told the story about a toilet being named after him. That his name and picture were in a toilet stall.

Jolene giggled and told everyone, “I’ve had my name written in a few toilet stalls, but never like that.” Joking, of course.

She thought maybe she broke Olga, who was giggling like mad at that. Then she heard all these stories that the others had to tell, watched clips of their promoted shows, and was making jokes when she felt witty enough. And then it got to her. That did not start well, Graham looking to the audience and asking:

“Now, does anyone know who Jolene Porter is?”

There were more cheers than she expected, but at least it was maybe three dozen and not three, period. “Yeah!” Jolene cheered with them.

“And you?” Graham asked the couch.

There were head shakes and light nos. She pouted, earning a hug from Gerard. His hand stayed on her back for a moment after and she tossed him a wink.

“Well, we originally had you on to promote a show, because the company suggested you.” Graham told her.

“Yeah.” Jolene crossed her legs, nodding as she fixed her black shorts.

He went on, “But then you quit.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And we decided to keep you on because you’re actually quite famous.”

She startled. “Hell, no I’m not.” Jolene scoffed.

“Yes you are!” Graham fought. “You got almost three million followers on twitter, a huge following on tumblr, and how many A to C list celebrities have you met?”

Jolene ran a hand through her hair. “A to C? Counting the couch?” She nodded over at the group. “Um, maybe one… one hundred? Biggest names being people like Stephen Fry, two people I’ll mention, and this couch.” She definitely had to include The Doctor and Sherlock, but not until she told the story.

“Aw, thank you darling.” Olga reached over Gerard and put a hand on Jolene’s knee. Gerard made a joking noise and fixed his collar.

Everyone laughed because the implication of it being something sexy was terribly clear. Jolene just laughed. “But I don’t think that’s fame.” She told Graham.

“No, you’re most famous for kicking your dad in the- that place.” Graham cringed with a gesture. “Now, for those who don’t know, Jolene’s father is the producer Terrance Porter.”

“Oh my God, I’ve worked with him.” Tom sat very forward on the couch. “You kicked him in the- wow, why?”

She knew that she’d be asked why. “Alright, okay, the story explains why I kicked him in the nuts, why I hate milk, and trust me, the story keeps getting worse.” She listed off. “Am I allowed to talk about it? Stephen told me to bitch.”

“Yes!” Graham shouted. The audience was cheering at the brutal shout, and she giggled.

“Alright, well.” She sat back, elbows over the back of the red couch. “I talk to my dad all the time, but he never tells me anything. He called me up, right, and he just asks, ‘will you watch Deva for two weeks? I’m off to Cancun.’ And so I said yes and went to meet him, you know, thinking Deva was a new dog or something.”

She was trying not to laugh at herself. “But as it turns out, right, Deva is his new six day old baby. My sister – half-sister.” People reacted, gasping or trying not to laugh. “He never told me he remarried or anything, and Deva’s mother is one year younger than I am.”

“Oh, that’s just horrible.” Graham shook his head.

“It gets worse.” She told him, like she warned. “I never ever took care of a baby before, and it’s not like they gave me a crib or anything more than one diaper bag and a credit card.” Jolene confessed. “So I’m on the tube, with a new born, not knowing crap about babies, and this very lovely, very nice guy comes up and he helps me, gets her to stop crying, feeds her, all that.”

She thought of Benedict fondly, smiling to herself. “And, um, he was fantastic. He came to my flat – he’s not skivvy, I know it sounds weird but I was freaking out. And mind you I don’t recognize people when I’m stressed – I’ve literally forgotten my mother before, it’s really weird. Anyway, he came over, helped me order a crib, taught me how to burp a baby, swaddle her, change her, make formula, everything. He even got all manly and put the crib together, which was, wow-y.” She was laughing a bit then. “And, um, it turned out that guy was Benedict Cumberbatch.”

Everyone was in an uproar of cheers or laughs. Graham was pinching the bridge of his nose as he giggled. “It gets worse.” Jolene repeated.

“No, oh God.” Graham composed himself. “Alright, go on.”

“So, um about a week later I’m covered in baby milk puke, and have nothing to wear, and there’s just bottles and toys everywhere.” Jolene sat forward. “And I still am stressed, and I still didn’t know it was Ben, alright? So, there’s a knock on my door, and it’s the nice guy from the tube and his hipster looking friend. They come in and the friend takes Deva, you know.”

She felt like an idiot. “She starts to make noise, right? And he just goes, ‘no worries, darling, the doctor is here.’ So I say, oh, you’re a doctor?” Jolene gave a sad breath. “Turns out it was Matt Smith!”

Same reaction, maybe louder. Jolene was nodding through the cheers and laughs, absolutely horrified. “Anyway,” She giggled as it quieted. “My dad gets back, and he sends a nanny to get my sister and all the crap I bought. But I was absolutely livid. So I called him up, told him to meet me, and I was just like, ‘I want to kick him in the bollocks.’ So I did and the paparazzi who stalk him say it.”

People clapped for her and Jolene put her hands out in a ta-da sort of way. “And speaking of Benedict Cumberbatch,” Graham went on. She looked at him. “Is that ridiculous blazer his?”

Her silver sequined blazer was large on her, and then she caught the joke. The shoes Benedict wore once before. “You know what, I bought this but it is for men.” Jolene opened it some. “And he’s very, you know, handsome to the point that it’s unfair, so he could pull it off. Um, it would probably fit him.” She smiled at the thought of him in it. “He can have it is he wants it.”

The conversation went on to the others on the couch. Near the end, though, just before the music Graham was back to talking to Jolene. This time about work.

“So what are you going to do now that you’re not all behind the scenes on all the TV shows?” He asked her.

Still, that was what she didn’t know. Jolene shrugged. “Um, I don’t know. I like writing, maybe I’ll write.”

“Or modelling?” Graham offered. “You used to model.”

Her mouth fell open. It was true but she hadn’t thought of it in years. “Who told you that?”

“Stephen Fry tweeted us some interesting photos.”

Bastard, she thought, and suddenly there were pictures of her on Graham’s computer screen. Of her being an idiot. In ballet shoes on her toes, in an ice bath with heels and a fake scar like her organs were taken out, and an open umbrella held between her legs. Weird, fun modelling pictures.

“No!” She shouted, horrified. “That’s not modelling, that was all campy. I’m just a goofball.” Jolene forgot how odd the photos were.

“I think they’re very impressive.” Olga commented. “Can you actually stand on your toes like that, or is it Photoshop?”

It was posing. “I was, but I can’t do that anymore. That was four years ago, that’s what it was. I am not a model.” She shook her head.

“You should be.” Gerard looked at her. “You’re in the ridiculous jacket and all we can see are these very long legs, but you open that and there is definitely a model there.”

She was so completely flattered at everyone who agreed, but she felt nervous. “No, I don’t know. I can’t get serious. That stupid ice bath thing was my idea – that’s my kind of photo shoot. A big joke.”

“A lot of people like that.” Tom Cruise stated firmly.

Jolene thought it was insane and very much meant it as a joke when she clasped her hands together and turned to a camera, faking a pleading look. “To all magazines out there. If you want an insane, twenty-eight year old model to ruin your fashion, please hire me. I am very unemployed.”

Everyone got the joke and laughed with her. When it was over, she went home feeling a bit proud of herself, with phone numbers in her pocket, and very glad to walk into a clean flat, child free. She loved DP and kids, but she was most definitely not ready for that.

 

 

 

“She got a crush on you!” Amanda teased when everyone was over and Jolene was talking about him. Well, really the very moment that she called him handsome, looking down with a bit of a coy expression, completely unlike the woman he’d met.

In a good way, Benedict thought. Not horribly stressed or upset of forgetful. She was that bright young woman he had take-out with, only livelier and sprightly.

“All I heard is that she’s on tumblr.” Martin added in mock. Benedict gave him a nudge. Tumblr was not exactly the greatest thing he’d experienced. “I’m kidding! She’s probably just the sort to fall for you.”

And by the end of the episode, Benedict had absolutely felt like something he hadn’t in a while. He was a fan. He could remember why people gained crushes only seeing them on the screen. It wasn’t helpful that he already liked her, before this. Now he was so overly fascinated that it was somewhat ironic.

Just being joking, Benedict retorted when it was over, “Anyone have her phone number?” He made it clear in his tone he was kidding, though if someone said yes he wouldn’t be afraid to get it.

But there were mostly just laughs and light comments about the show. As everyone left, Amanda making Martin jealous as she talked about Gerard Butler, Benedict debated his own night. It was ten thirty at night, but how many people were asleep at ten thirty?

Taking a risk, as little as it was considering the worst thing that could happen was waking someone up, Benedict left his own flat minutes after he was alone. He got in his car this time around, and now knowing sort of well where Jolene lived, he drove over. It took a minute of sitting at her curb to get the nerve to get out of the car. All he would do was ask her phone number, and go. That’s all he needed, because he was clearly missing out on something with her.

Knocking he realized for the first time that there was a doorbell hidden off to the side, but he didn’t use it. Mostly because there was noise inside almost immediately. A lock clicked open, and the door opened. It showed off a clean flat and a well-rested woman he’d never seen – Jolene looked wonderful, even in just a tank top and jeans.

“I don’t have DP anymore.” She leaned in the doorway with a smile.

“I know.” Benedict answered. “I’m here for the sequined blazer.” He whispered behind a hand.

Jolene scrunched her nose as she giggled behind a hand. “Really?”

He shook his head. “No. I thought of how you could pay me back.” She waited, and Benedict felt very confident in himself. “You could give me your phone number.”

“I could.” She agreed but seemed a little puzzled. “That’s it?”

“For now.” Hand in his pocket, Benedict took out his phone and gave it to her. Jolene seemed to add her number easily. When he got his phone back, Benedict found it and clicked call.

Her pocket rang as he held the phone to his ear. “Ben.” Jolene laughed.

“Shh, I’m on the phone.” He whispered at her.

Thankfully she went with it, taking out her cell phone. “Hello?” She answered in a charming tone, voice echoed.

“Hello, this is Ben.” He asked like she wasn’t standing two feet away. “I was wondering maybe if you’d like to have dinner with me this week? Maybe Friday, say around seven?”

It was absolutely spur of the moment. He had no intention on asking her out before, but Benedict had, and now waited in anticipation hoping he didn’t look a nervous wreck.

Jolene hesitated, her eyes searching his face. “Are you serious?” She asked.

“Well, yes. You’re the sequin blazer to my sparkling shoes.”

Her mouth quirked into a smile and she spoke specifically into the phone. “I’m going to have to call you back.” Jolene hung up and the game had ended.

But something else had started as she reached out. A hand caressed near his ear and Jolene kissed him. Just a peck on the lips, for barely a single beat of his heart, which was loud in his ears, and then she pulled back.

“Still want to go out with me?” She asked. Benedict gulped and nodded, not exactly trusting his voice. “Then I’ll see you Friday, at seven.”

That seemed simple, he thought. Chuckling, Benedict slipped a hand through his hair. “Right, great, I’ll uh, see you. For our date.” He fumbled a bit for words, then turned and went back down the walk.

He was very, very excited for Friday.

 


End file.
